


Karma

by DragonWarden



Series: Dynasty [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Gen, accidental child endangerment, but the religion is really just a sidenote to everything else, don't let the tags put you off it really is funny as long as you're not Dominikos, hand-waving of reiigions I don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:04:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2503856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonWarden/pseuds/DragonWarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long before now, Dominikos had been sure his end would come in the form of a Templar's blade.</p><p>Just before now, Dominikos had been sure his end would come in the form of a sell-sword's blade.</p><p>Now, Dominikos was sure his end would come in the form of a meddling Buddhist monk and an orphan with no common sense. He may very well convert, because Buddhism was coming closer to doing him in after a single day than Christianity had in four-and-a-half decades.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Karma

**Author's Note:**

> You don't reeeeeeaaaaaaaaaally need to know what happened to have Dominikos on the run here, but if you want to know a little more of the circumstances that surround it, it's in Chapter 2 of the main fic [Dynasty](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2111832/chapters/4606854) (which is actually Chapter 3 in AO3 terms).

For the last two days it had stormed; heavy, pelting rain that had felt like individual pebbles being flung against the body. Part of the seasonal flurries that often blew through the region at this time of the year, it had been a convenient and much-needed cover, but also a highly uncomfortable one.

Dominikos stepped through the temple door and had to squint, shading his eyes in spite of the early hour. The air was scrubbed so clear that he could almost count the individual leaves on the bamboo circling the far end of the practice grounds. The last of the flat, metal-gray clouds had gone in the night; now, even though the sun had barely cleared the low hills to the east, the temple grounds were a bustle of activity.

"Should you be standing already?"

Dominikos half-turned to find the temple master shuffling up to the doorway, patterned ochre robes dull in the half-shadows. "I am standing, am I not?" he countered as he stepped aside to let the master pass.

But the monk simply lingered in the doorway, taking a deep, contented breath before glancing down at Dominikos' knee and then back up to meet his eyes. With nearly a head's difference in their heights, it meant a rather pointed tilt of the monk's gaze. "You were barely able to walk when you arrived. Are you that eager to leave?"

Ruefully, Dominikos recalled why it was he had never been much fond of holding conversations with priests and their like. Everything they said seemed to have some deeper meaning, whether it was finding God's word in scripture or how the day had been. "It was only … stiff?" he ventured, not up to the effort of more accurate vocabulary after just waking from his first full night's sleep in a week. He had wrenched the joint badly during an escape and a day's worth of riding afterward had not helped. While he could manage without a limp today, it still felt fragile. "And I did not want to impose. If I can leave, I will go."

To be honest, everything felt fragile after the last week's worth of running and hiding. It was a stark reminder that he was not as young or resilient as he used to be … and it was a surprise to realize that he was tired of living that way. It used to be that it was the only life he knew; had honestly thought, in his more maudlin moments, that he missed it. But now, after the last decade's example of an alternative lifestyle, the thought of returning to it was exhausting.

The monk waved a hand dismissively before clasping both behind his back, letting his gaze wander toward a handful of novitiates cleaning up storm damage in the courtyard. "You will go, but not your charge?"

Dominikos' brow furrowed, wondering if he had misinterpreted the master's words, but his glance in askance only found the monk nodding deliberately toward the novitiates. Following his gaze, Dominikos frowned at the handful of boys busy sweeping shredded leaves and snapped twigs into piles - and realized that one of them still had a full head of hair. "Ah." He shifted briefly to his bad leg to test it and then settled back onto his good one, weighing his choices. "He is not my … 'charge'. I was only providing a service."

" _Ah_ ," the monk deliberately mimicked his Western expression, and Dominikos had incontrovertible proof that the man was just mocking him now. "So you plan on abandoning him to our fold?"

 _"This is blackmail, old man,"_ Dominikos grumbled irritably in his native tongue, not at all fooled by the mild look the master paid him for the foreign words. "His parents are dead," he pointed out bluntly, switching back to the local dialect. "He does not know anyone else he can go to, and I do not know anything but his name. Do you not take in children with no parents?"

"Mm, yes, we sometimes take in orphans," the master nodded calmly, "until they are old enough to make a decision. They continue to be welcome if they wish to become a novice. If they decide otherwise, however, we can only send them on their way with our blessings."

Dominikos' already souring mood turned bitter. For all that they were talking about a child, this felt like it was turning into a negotiation. "And at what age are they old enough to make a decision?"

"It is any age at which they can understand and voice their desires."

Dominikos' eyes cut back to the master, though the monk himself continued to serenely regard the activities in the yard. "And how do you know that they understand their desires? If they are too young, maybe they do not really know what they want."

"True," the master conceded easily, unperturbed. "But then, I have met many older who have also been mistaken in their desires. It seems to me, then, that age has little to do with the understanding of oneself."

Dominikos flinched, and knew that the temple master had noticed when the man actually shifted to face him with benignly raised brows. "This is not about me," he stated flatly. "This is about a boy who has no family and is being _hunted_."

"It is not about you," the master agreed readily; too readily, the dark eyes almost unsettlingly direct. "But perhaps it should be, if you feel that the words apply?"

Dominikos exhaled sharply; not quite a laugh, but the sound sardonic and accusing enough. "No, thank you, I have not - " he searched fruitlessly for the equivalent to 'confessed' and was forced to simply blurt out the original _Veneto_ before continuing irritably, " - in ten years, and I am not beginning now, in a language I half-know."

"I think you are eloquent enough, especially in defense of the boy," the master smiled before sighing with a chiding shake of his head. "Please, I am not an enemy. I merely think there is a better solution than simply dropping the boy off like a sack of rice and then leaving."

"It is the best I know to do with him," Dominikos retorted, stung. "Should I instead drag him all over the land, looking for someone to give him to?"

"And why must you drag him anywhere, or to give him away at all?" the master asked with a much graver look. "You were the one that saved him. You were the one to run with him. You are the one attempting to safeguard his future."

Dominikos stared, caught between disbelief and outright laughter. "Are you saying I should keep him? I do not know anything about children. I am a foreign man and I do not stay in any place for longer than three days. Besides, he looks like he could belong here, yes?"

The temple master's gaze followed Dominikos' sharp gesture, humming noncommittally at the sight of all the boys now grouped into a near corner of the courtyard. There seemed to be a heated discussion occurring while they peered up at something caught on the flared corner of a second tier eave, probably blown there by the recent storm. Dominikos' 'charge' - dressed in borrowed novitiate robes with his hair gathered up into a neat, if slightly off-center knot - stood silently at the group's edge, staring fixedly up at the same area.

"So you think the best one can do for him is to have him remain here?"

The carefully worded question sounded like the bait to a trap, but Dominikos was weary enough to step into it for the sake of escaping the larger debate. "Yes," he stated with all the conviction he could muster.

Brows that were beginning to blanch from gray to white arched. "And what about what is best for you?"

Dominikos blinked, honestly caught flat-footed. "For me? It would be the same. For him to stay here."

"And would you not be hunted also when you leave?"

He stared for a long moment before raising his hands and giving a slow clap. " _Bravo._ You have been thinking about this for a while, have you?"

The master inclined his head politely, though for the first time, he seemed discomfited. "As you say, you are a foreign man, easily recognizable. I would imagine, if they had been in pursuit of you for nearly a ten-day, that they would have a good description of you by now. Even if you leave the boy behind, they can still find you."

"And what should I do? Also become a novice?" Dominikos asked, and though his tone was heavy with sarcasm, he could not deny a small seed of genuine curiosity as to how far the master's plans extended. "If it is about his support, I can send some donations - "

"He is old enough to contribute to his own support," the master overrode mildly, deliberately interpreting his words at face value, "and you do not need to join our order to settle nearby. There is plenty of land … and few find the small village worthy of visiting. Or conquering, even if the Mongols were inclined to stray this way."

Dominikos could feel the skin around his eyes tightening as he tried to tease out the monk's motives. "And why are you so interested in helping a foreign man?"

"Were you even an ant, I would be interested in helping you, just as I am interested in helping all living beings," the monk stated with a level gaze. "But even moreso, I am concerned with your karmic balance and your path to enlightenment, and in my meditations since your arrival, I have determined that the boy is, possibly, your penance."

"My what?" Dominikos half-laughed, half-scoffed, not at all certain that he had understood even a part of what the master had just said. There was a sudden burst of excitement from the distant knot of boys, and he glanced distractedly their way as he insisted, "Master, I appreciate that you are doing what you think is the best for us, but we … are … not … " And when he finally registered what was happening, he lapsed completely into his mother tongue as he surged past the temple master. _"What is that fool boy doing?"_

Said fool boy was halfway up one of the bamboo that clustered near the temple itself, determinedly scooting up its length toward that second story eave to either the encouragement or discouragement of the other boys; it was difficult to tell. While the bamboo forest in general thrust a good forty feet overhead, the particular stem the boy had selected had not quite reached its full growth, and by the time he reached its slender apex, it was bowing enough that the boy was nearly parallel with the ground.

In another life, Dominikos might have been impressed and thought about recruitment - the boy had slithered up a stem with just enough give that its precarious dip covered the few feet of separation between him and the roof edge. In the current life, however, all he could see was how the graceful curve of the bamboo was beginning to acquire a worrying corner just below the boy's crossed feet - a point of weakness that was about to spill the boy headfirst onto the granite blocks below.

The boy's face was set in a frown of concentration and determination. His left brow was pulled just slightly off-kilter by a narrow scab, the yellowing remnants of a bruise still painting the skin around the eye. Dangling like a monkey from the bamboo's underside, he shifted his grip, grimaced, and then stretched out with one hand, fingers wriggling for the yellow, fluttering thing snagged on the temple roof.

The stem creaked and began to fold in on itself. Dominikos made a running leap across the temple's threshold terrace, planted a foot atop the wide stone balustrade, and launched himself over the boys gathered in the courtyard level.

The landing made his knee scream in protest. The wrench when his feet slid on water still filming stone polished by centuries of wear made his back scream in protest. And when there was a crackling _snap_ overhead and the equivalent weight of a sack of meal dropped into his arms, sending him slamming backwards into the ground? Maybe there was a whimper hidden somewhere in the breath that was forcefully expelled from his lungs.

It took a long moment of blinking to realize that the half dozen faces he saw ringed around him were not multiple visions of the same boy, but the entire gaggle of novitiates all crowded close; disturbingly similar with their Han features and shaved heads. There was a bit of jostling, and soon the weathered features of the temple master was also visible, leaning over in concern. A thin cough sounded around Dominikos' mid-section, and the weight sprawled there shifted as the boy pushed himself up, swayed, and then pronounced distinctly, _"Merda."_

Dominikos winced and had to resist casting a guilt-filled glance toward the master. It had been a very _merda_ -filled week before they had arrived at the temple.

"Go on, off with you! Ah Xiang, go get Master Liao to come help, the rest of you, the courtyard is not going to clean itself - !" The temple master scattered the novitiates with an imperious flick of his sleeves, then offered a solicitous hand behind Dominikos' shoulder when he moved to sit up. " _Amituofo_ , that was well done. Surely this is a sign that you are meant to care for the child."

"It is a sign that he will be the death of me," Dominikos groaned, leveling a gimlet eye upon his token charge.

The boy appeared neither frightened or abashed by his misadventure. Merely stood up to look at his hard-won prize - a long strip of paper on which had been written a string of characters, now running in messy trails of ink after the rain. Squinting, he turned it right side up, and after a heartbeat's consideration in which he was clearly sounding out some of the characters beneath his breath, hazarded, " … a prayer?"

The master straightened in surprise. "A blessing," he corrected gently. "Perhaps from the village. It has traveled a long way, if so. Are you hurt?" At the boy's shake of the head, he motioned toward the paper with a polite, "May I?" to which the blessing was handed over without a thought - its significance much reduced now that the challenge was over. "It should be time soon for the first meal. Go help the other novitiates finish up, and then you can eat with them when the bell sounds."

The boy gave an absent-minded bow of respect before obediently walking off; an ingrained politesse from his former life. And for all Dominikos' irritation, he could not help following the small figure with a worried gaze - could not help noticing how the boy had evinced no true excitement to rejoin his peers, merely followed the master's instructions with the ambivalent air of someone who had nothing else to do.

"And you? Are you still doubting your role in his life?"

Dominikos rolled a sour look toward the monk before carefully levering himself to his feet. "What, no questions on whether I was hurt?" he grunted, testing his bad knee before wincing and judiciously shifting his weight off of it.

"I thought the answer to that was quite obvious and thought to spare your pride," the temple master returned smoothly, shifting to provide a shoulder for him to lean against.

"I do not like you," Dominikos sighed even as he accepted the crutch. "And yes, I am still 'doubting'. I do not know why you insist it is good for a child to grow up with a foreign mercenary - "

He choked on a surprisingly sharp jab of a finger into his ribs, and glanced down in surprise at the even sharper tone that followed. "That is exactly why," the master stated, dark eyes piercing. "You came to us with weapons and the blood of others on your clothes, and I do not doubt that you are very good at your trade. Is it not time to consider that, after taking so many lives, you should nurture one instead?"

Dominikos recoiled. "I have never killed anyone who did not need killing," he hissed. "You do not get to judge my - "

"The heavens are our judge, not I, and our beliefs hold that you will be judged harshly!" the master overrode with surprising vehemence. "But we also believe that it is possible for all beings to attain enlightenment, regardless of the road they had traveled before or how long they have been upon it. There is no such thing as a killing that _needs_ to happen … but there is much need in that child, and whether you perceive it or not, there is much need in you too for something different."

It was an eerie parallel to his earlier thoughts and Dominikos had to swallow the reflexive need to lash out, as he would when sensing any trap about to close. "I am not one of your novitiates, old man. I made mistakes in the past that have broken - ruined - many things, many people," he stumbled over the words, frustration and old hurt alike entangling his tongue. "That boy has already seen enough - he does not need me making another mistake with him."

He braced himself for some platitude in response, or perhaps yet another diatribe. But as he was beginning to learn, the monk continued to cheerfully deny expectations and merely smiled after his earlier fervor, patting him on the shoulder. "And that is why I will help you. It is only expected that this will be a difficult task, seeing as how it is to balance the weight of murder. But that is why we are here, to guide others along their path. I will want to see him every morning after the first meal; I will continue his education in reading and writing, after which he can join the novitiates in their martial arts training so that we do not have a repeat of today's excitement."

Dominikos stared. "Wait … wait, what do you mean you will help me? I have not agreed to this, you cannot simply give a child to me and say that I must raise it - "

"Is that so? Like how you were going to simply give a child to us and say that we must raise it?"

Dominikos was sure that his mouth was still moving, but he simply could not find any more words in the face of the monk's politely inquiring expression, and was genuinely considering whether Buddhists might be even more insidious than the Templars when there was a light tug upon his elbow.

Desperately grateful for the distraction, he swung his gaze down to find the boy in question standing next to him, holding up a finger in which a splinter had lodged. _"Merda,"_ he said solemnly, and Dominikos quickly traded his gratefulness for internal curses.

 _"Cacca,"_ he automatically corrected, only to reconsider, wince, and conclude desperately, " _Ohi_ , you should use _ohi_ from now on. Understood?"

 _"Ohi,"_ the boy echoed obediently, and raised his finger up even higher.

The master sighed indulgently as he shooed the boy ahead of them and helped Dominikos hobble after. "Come along, boys. We may as well begin the first lessons today."


End file.
